


You told me fortunes in American slang

by elevenoclock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-12
Updated: 2011-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elevenoclock/pseuds/elevenoclock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam make a brief stop at a carnival. Pre-Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You told me fortunes in American slang

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Session 1, Round 1 of The New Pub. The theme was "song lyrics", and this piece was written in 20 minutes to the lyrics "You told me fortunes in American slang". Join us at thenewpub.livejournal.com!
> 
> This takes place before Dean meets Castiel, which was totally unintentional.

Dean doesn't believe in fortune telling, but that doesn't stop him from being superstitious, from seeing the karma in ever inauspicious moment. He tosses salt over his shoulder in backroad diners, avoids ladders that lean against buildings, and called a job off once because a black cat slept on the railing outside their motel room (much to Sam's confusion).

So of course he scoffs at the Tarot booth and pretends not to see it when they walk by.

They've stopped at a roadside carnival. It's a beautiful night, they've finished a job with no injuries, and Sam had stared at the lights longingly, refusing to admit his want, until Dean had stretched and said, "Hey, Sammy, I need to stretch my legs and eat a turkey leg or two, you mind if we stop for a coupla hours?"

He pretends not to see the look of gratitude on Sam's face, and chalks one onto the Good Karma box.

"Jess and I went to a carnival once," he says as they walk. It's been a long time since he mentioned Jess... years. Dean shoots him a look out of the corner of his eye, but doesn't say anything. "I won her one of those stuffed bears, y'know? In a shooting game. The one time hunting skills came in handy while I was at Standford."

"Dude," Dean says. "If you think I'm gonna stand by, wide-eyed, while you try to win me a bear, you are totally wrong. I smell chalupas!" And he takes off, leaving Sam laughing at his back to hurry and catch up.

But the Tarot Booth. They pass it as Dean's eating a candy apple ("how do you eat so much?" Sam asks, and Dean grins and says, "I work it off each night," and Sam flushes and rolls his eyes at the reminder of Dean's multitude of one night stands), and Dean pauses for a moment, watching it, before moving on.

Still... later, when Sam is waiting in line for a roller coaster and Dean has wandered off on his own, he finds his way back to the booth.

He's stood there for a good five minutes before a voice floats out of the tent, carrying across the carnival sounds. "Are you going to stand there, or are you going to come in and have a seat?"

Dean starts, but moves forward anyways, brushing aside the silk of the tent and ducking his head.

It's dim inside, but not dark, and there's a faint haze of scented smoke in the air. His eyes adjust quickly, and he sees a woman sitting at a table, wrapped in velvet, black eyes glinting from the candles that surround her.

"Have a seat, Dean Winchester," she says.

Dean freezes. There's a gun tucked into his waistband, but it only has bullets, not rocksalt, and he has no idea what this is, anyways. Holy water is in his jacket pocket, a knife is strapped to his ankle, ruins carved into the steel.

"I'm not going to harm you," the woman-- whatever she is-- says. "So stop thinking about how many ways you can kill me with what you have in this room. Sit."

"How do you know my name?"

The woman ignores him. She has a deck of cards in front of her, faded and frayed edges, and she shuffles them easily through old fingers. The first card she puts down is worn until the image is barely visible.

"I know who you are," she says, hand still on the card, "because I know what the Fortunes tell me. And they tell me that you, Dean Winchester, are in for change." She motions to the card. "Death. But not Death the Reaper, merely a sign of things ending, change coming."

Dean feels hot suddenly in the small tent. "How do you know my name?" he asks again.

The woman laughs, but it's not cruel, simply amused. "Every spirit on this plane knows your name, Dean Winchester. Fortune has been good to you, and we who speak Fortune's words for Her know everything about your deeds and your victories."

The woman leans forward suddenly, serious, eyes fixed on Dean. "You must accept change when it comes," she says. "Angels and mortals and demons alike. There are more things in heaven and earth, and you must accept these things, or Death the Reaper will be before you to offer His hand to you."

Dean stands suddenly, knocking the chair over as he stands. "I don't need your fortune telling mumbo-jumbo," he says, forcing his voice not to shake. "And I'm not paying you for this, either!"

He leaves the tent, quickly, and heads to find Sammy. He wants to get on the road again and leave this creepy-ass place behind him. Angels and heaven, psh.


End file.
